It was probably on a matter of seconds from the moment of opening the boot of our car – to there being a swarm of ‘customers’ scavenging amongst our unwanted posessions hunting for, well god only knows what.
These were junk junkies, looking for their next fix, leaping around like castrated badgers in a tandoori oven. “How much for this?”; “What else have you got?”; “I’ll give you a pound for this.”
It was like watching a group of spoiled children on an easter egg hunt, except with grown adults. I must admit even though I had been warned it would be like this, I wasn’t quite prepared, and having gotten up at 5am no amount of coffee seemed to aid my composure.
I had naively expected to be able to set up a nice attractive display of our wares before selling anything, but as it was – they were practically in the back of the car pawing through our stuff before you could say “where’s the thermos?”.
But who are these people? Who gets up at 4am to rummage through the boot of some strangers car in the hope of finding a bargain purchase? Nuns? Not my mother-in-law certainly.